“Look here, Ursula, my dear”--it was always easiest to approach a significant interview with “look here”--“I’m not going to mince words with you. If the trouble is that you don’t like undressing right down in front of Nina, because you’re not used to it--well, it’s false modesty, my dear, that’s what it is, but you can’t help your feelings.” And, very red in the face, but determined not to be put off either from her theory or her remedy, she described how Ursula could put on her nightgown over all her underclothes, and undress decently beneath it, manœuvering unseen knots and buttons until each garment flapped from concealment on to the floor; and, in the same way, could dress completely underneath her nightgown, and then only take it off--“It’s just a knack, and you’re not clumsy, so with a bit of practice--though, mind you, Ursula, you may say I’m too broad-minded, but it’s better than being morbid, which you are when you act as though your body’s something to be ashamed of.” “Darling Mummie, I don’t care twopence if Nina or anybody else sees me stark naked.” Florrie Maxwell collapsed on to the ledge of the landing-window. For though the Laburnums was now in its wonted pleasant humour, it still gave father the advantage of a study for “serious talks” with his offspring, and left mother to be despised for her less successful efforts in the uncertain privacy of the landings or the stairs. Mrs. Maxwell was annoyed with Ursula. She had enjoyed being broad-minded and advanced, in a wind-on-the-open-heath voice, to a prim, shy, absurd little daughter ... but Ursula’s “stark naked” had at once reversed their positions, and discouragingly forced her back into the distasteful attitude of a slightly shocked parent.... For why “stark” naked? “Stark” nakedness contains an impropriety beyond the mere heartiness of a body unclothed. “Then if it’s not that that’s upsetting you, what is it?” bluntly. Ursula became impenetrable. Oh, Nina with her “What did you hope to get out of it?” and now the grown-ups with “Why do you mind not sleeping alone?” hinting at--Ursula did not know what they were hinting at; and nor, as a matter of course, did they, except for an uneasy conviction that it was unnatural. But Aunt Lavvy understood. That was what so exasperated Ursula. Of all of them, Aunt Lavvy, who did not belong to them, who did not love them (not really), and who was, moreover, her enemy, should alone possess subtle mastery of whatever situation arose at the Laburnums. She did not _want_ to be understood by Aunt Lavvy. But in truth she was, and to herself she owned it. When--when would it begin ... the glorious transformation of the commonplace, reward of sacrifice? Would it never begin? Not today? Not tomorrow? If there were any place to cry and cry and cry out the fulness of her heart and the tightness of her throat, the disappointment might not press so heavily. The room had been a lovely place to cry in. [XVIII]